


hunger

by scionofthelongproject



Series: what slipped between the pages [1]
Category: Fables - Willingham
Genre: Bigby goes and gets his love some food because pregnancy sickness sucks, Charming proves to be less of a douche than thought, Deleted scene au, F/M, Fluff, I just wanted some sweet fluff because Willingham doesn't know how the fuck to write it, Snow apologizes for being mean, The McDonald's ice cream machine is broken, fluffy af, that's really important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scionofthelongproject/pseuds/scionofthelongproject
Summary: In which our hero treks out to get his family food, a prince proves his worth, and the McDonald's ice cream machine is broke down.





	hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Don't look at me, I know I'm procrastinating with my other fics. But the fact that I churned out 6k words in a week on this is pretty fucking astounding.

He doesn't know why he's here.

Okay, he does know. The sharp scent of discontent broke him out of his sleep, and Bigby turned to look at the outdated alarm clock to see how ungodly late it was. It smelled like frustration at there being nothing in the cupboards, lamenting that she's not asleep yet, pining at the idea of something delicious and filling; another deep breath revealed the scent of loneliness and bitterness. Instead of ignoring it, like she'd tell him to, he got up, slung his coat over his shoulders, and headed out the door.

It's a surprise to know who is behind his awakening, but he doesn't feel any anger towards it. After all, it is - as she keeps reminding him - his fault. She's also made it clear that she doesn't want him helping her through this, but if she's waking him up at two in the morning inadvertently, he really has no choice. Even still, he stands outside her doorway, fingers itching for a cigarette so he can inhale some bravery to knock on the door, but she'll get mad if she even gets a hint of the tobacco.

Once again, he's gone full circle. Why is he here?

_Because she's distressed and tired and lonely and about to cry and because she never asked for this and while I didn't either, she deserves to be happy and because I would do quite literally anything for her to be happy-_

Bigby just grits his teeth and knocks.

He hears her feet stop in the bedroom, hesitating at the sound, before pattering over to her door. It opens, and he sees her wrapping her robe around herself a little tighter.

“Bigby, what are you doing here?” Snow asks.

“Trying to get some sleep,” He grumbles. It's hard to be mad as she stands there with a slightly worried expression on her face. It's hard to be mad at her at all, if he's going to be honest. “You're hungry.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Yes, how did you-” She figures it out as her face sours. “Right. Dumb wolf nose.”

He can't help but to grin at her scowl. “Yeah, dumb wolf nose can smell that you're upset. Enough that you woke me up. So what are you hungry for?”

“Bigby, I've told you that I don't want your help.”

“I'm not doing this to get in your good graces,” Bigby bites out. “I'm doing this to get some fucking sleep and make sure our child gets food.” Snow reels back from his outburst, and he runs his hand through his hair. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped. I can tell you aren't keeping anything down, Snow. You need to keep yourself healthy and try to eat. I know you said you don't want my help, but it's literally keeping me up at night.”

Snow stares at the floor, arms crossed as she contemplates his words. The silence surrounds him, nearly choking him as he waits for her to say something, even if it's to go back upstairs and ignore her. So it surprises him when she heads towards her kitchen and grabs a pen and paper and starts writing. “Don't read this list until you leave,” She tells him. “It's fine if you can't get everything, but don't even think about coming back if you don't get the last thing on the list.”

He stays in the doorway, waiting for her to finish. She folds it up and hands it to him, studying it closely, like it's going to unfold and reveal what it says to him in a big fanfare. Bigby takes it slowly, raising his other hand to feel her sticky forehead. “Try to sip down some water while I'm gone.”

Snow doesn't move to push away his hand, only raising her eyebrows at his level of empathy. “I've been trying.”

He hums before moving to look in her fridge for anything. Her fridge is stocked, and he wonders briefly what could possibly be on the list before reaching for a lemon. It's still fairly fresh, fresh enough that he holds his breath to repel the citrus smell as he rolls it against the counter a couple of times before cutting it in half. The juice drips into a glass he grabs out of the cupboard, covering the bottom before he fills it with water. “Try this.”

She narrows her eyes but still accepts the drink, taking the tiniest sip possible. “Where did you-”

“Drink,” He chides, cutting her off. “I'll be back soon. Then we can talk.”

As he walks out of the apartment, he glances down at the paper, curious to see what exactly she needs that she doesn't already have. The paper feels like it carries a secret as he unfolds it, and his mouth splits into a grin as he reads everything. It makes sense now, and as he folds it back up, he can't help but to laugh at her predicament.

It's definitely his kid.

* * *

The diner is still open, neon lights buzzing as he opens the door. The cook on duty is cleaning the counters, and she turns to him with curiosity. “You're in late.”

“Sorry, Mother Hubbard. I've got a pregnant woman to feed.” Bigby takes his coat off, hanging it over his arm as he prepares for the interrogation.

She clucks, crossing her arms. “So you _are_ the father of Snow White’s child.”

“We’re not trying to hide it,” Bigby retorts, taking out a cigarette. “No one's asked her because they're all terrified or they've already assumed it’s me. And they're just plain terrified of me to ask anything.”

Hubbard shakes her head, turning around the corner to turn on her stove. “What am I cooking?”

“Six steaks, to start off with. Three rare, three medium rare.”

He can still see her through the order window, lips pursed at him. “How'd you do it?”

He's caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Despite what you think, the community has been less surprised that it's your baby and more surprised that you were finally able to seal the deal.” Hubbard takes a tenderizer down from the wall and Bigby hears and smells the fresh meat being unwrapped. “So how'd you woo her?”

“I didn't. Bluebeard drugged us,” He snarls.

Hubbard looks up from her stove with surprise. She seems to appraise his dark grimace with a careful nature. “Whiskey, second shelf next to the glasses.”

He gets up from the stool, heading straight for the alcohol to try to numb the pain. For the life of him, he can't remember anything from those three days at all, and neither can she. He wants to remember what happened, just so that way he can at least be able to live with himself again. It's not that he wants to hold onto the memory of her underneath him like pornography, but he needs to know that he treated her right, that it wasn't just some spell that made them lay together. It hurts that she's trying to shove him away, but he understands as well; she didn't ask for any of this. He wants to apologize, but what can he apologize for?

The chef throws the steaks on the grill and leaves him to his thoughts, which is a blessing, really. As motherly as Hubbard can be, the last thing he wants right now is to be comforted, because he sure as hell doesn't deserve it. He pulls a match from his pocket and strikes it against the counter, lighting his cigarette before pouring himself a double. It's enough to keep him calm, but not enough to get him buzzed. Bigby reconsults the list, going over it again and thinking. Hubbard notices, peeking up again from the order window. “What else should I be cooking?”

“Pork chops. Whole plate of them.” _Colin would be pissed_ , he thinks wryly to himself. Hell, Colin would be tickled pinker than he had been before if he was still alive for this. With another inhale of his cigarette, Bigby sighs, feeling the loss of his friend weigh on him. He's been letting the mourning come and go in waves, but it still surprises him when he doesn't wake up to a noisy pig asking to bum a cigarette off of him. He knows how active the pig would be nowadays, making cheeky remarks to both him and Snow about their runaway to the woods, and how Snow would just crack down on Colin going back up to the Farm that much harder.

“It sounds like she's feeding a whole litter,” Hubbard grunts, opening the freezer again.

Bigby nearly chokes on his drink, coughing hard in surprise. Shit. _Shit._ The old woman might be right. It would explain how Snow is showing so much earlier than expected, and would certain as hell explain why she needs so much food. They've both been presuming that they'll be a normal human child, but he's not exactly human, now is he?

_What if your paternal blood shows up?_

The next shot can't go down quick enough to mute the thought. He can't bear to think of what would happen if the North Wind lineage showed up in his cub. Cubs. Fuck. Does he talk to Snow? Does he worry her with this? She's told him to stay out of this, but she's having him run her errands now.

Hubbard didn't miss his coughing, and she cackles at him. “You didn't even consider it as a possibility.”

All he does is give her a glare, turning back to the list. The bell rings, door swinging open, and the smell of aftershave and expensive suit walks in, making his face twist in disgust.

“Mother Hubbard,” Charming greets. “Got enough room on that grill for a couple of eggs for the future mayor?” Bigby can't help but to snort, gaining Charming’s attention. “Ah, Sheriff. You're out late tonight. Couldn't find enough people to snack on?”

“Food’s not for him,” Hubbard says curtly.

As Bigby gives her another glare, Charming snatches the list away from him, looking down it. “Ahh, Snowbunny’s handwriting. She sounds hungry.”

“Can you please hurry up with the cooking?” Bigby grumbles, flicking ashes onto the ground.

Charming continues to stare at the list, looking uncharacteristically worried. “Bigby, you're going to have to go outside Fabletown for some of this. Only Mundy restaurants carry some of this.”

“Which is why I'm in a hurry,” Bigby snaps.

Hobbes comes in, and as he does, Charming gets a cunning smile on his face. “It works out. I know how to drive. While we’re out, Hobbes can deliver the food to the Woodlands front desk. That way, we take no longer than need be to feed our darling Snow.”

He wants to say no, he wants to drive his knee right into Charming’s groin and walk off, but the need to feed Snow, the need to please her outweighs his own selfish wants. “Fine,” Bigby grits out, throwing his coat back on. “But I'm still smoking in the car.”

* * *

Charming is quiet through their drive, eyes shifting to look around for the first restaurant. It isn't until Bigby throws his cigarette out the window does he say something. “Where the hell did you get the money to afford a car?”

“Briar Rose helped,” Charming. “It's technically in her name, but I'll pay her back when I become mayor.”

“It kills me that you really think you'll get elected,” Bigby admits. “Especially since you killed to get to it.”

“I know you disagree with how I dealt with Bluebeard,” Charming starts.

“Ah, the man proves he's intelligent.”

“But don't make the mistake of thinking that it was purely for the ability to run for mayor. What he did was a personal affront to Snow, and I saw it as a way to make up an iota of the pain I've caused her.” Charming’s eyes flick downward, mouth turned into a sad smile. “She fights so much against you. Always has.”

“Bringing up the painful reminder for a reason?” Bigby asks with annoyance.

“She always make a big fight against those she's in love with. Our courting was absolutely horrid; sure, I woke her up from her spell, but that didn't mean she automatically loved me. I'd bring her a bouquet of flowers, and she'd take them only to throw them on the ground. With you, it's like thunderstorms, gods fighting for the earth.” Charming grins. “She’s head over heels for you. I'm only sorry that I ruined her lifestyle for you. If only you were a wealthy prince.”

“I will kick you out of the car. I don't care if we crash. I'll survive it.” Bigby takes a long inhale of his cigarette. “You're wrong, by the way. She was open to the idea of me until she found out I withheld the truth of what happened during camping, which is fair. Bluebeard’s lucky you got to him before I did. Son of a bitch had a sick sense of humor.”

Charming cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Neither Snow or I remember… conception.”

Charming blinks in surprise. “That wasn't part of his orders.”

“Orders?”

“Yes, he wrote down the specific instructions he gave you. Having you two sleep together was never apart of it.” Charming shakes his head as he parks outside the restaurant. “Christ, no wonder you two haven't been your usual ‘unresolved sexual tension’ selves.”

“You wanna get thrown down the Witching Well? Because this is how you get thrown down the Witching Well.” Bigby opens the car door, sniffing the air. The food Snow wants is definitely here, greasy and fattening and good. He grinds his cigarette into the ground with his foot before heading in. The low hum of fluorescent lights buzzes through his ears, and the cashier glances at the clock, as if questioning his reason for being here so ungodly late, before turning to him. “What are you ordering?”

“Uhh…” Bigby digs the list back out of his pocket. “Three orders of large fries. And, oh…” He takes another deep inhale. “Your biggest burger. Five of them.”

Charming steps up quickly, shoving a card into her hand. “Here.” She blushes as she swipes it, keeping her eyes downcast. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Yeah, no problem,” She stammers as she hands it back and goes to give the receipt to the cook.

“Briar’s credit card?”

“But of course. It's a small purchase, she won't mind.”

“I'll just add it to her expenses,” Bigby huffs.

“I can call Hobbes if you want,” Charming offers. “Have him bring Bluebeard’s journal out for you.”

“I can smell you're telling the truth, Charming, as loathe as I am to believe it.” Bigby slides into a booth to wait. “Why are you telling me this, though? So desperate to gain my favor?”

“As I said before, my only goal hasn't been to run for mayor.” Charming sits opposite him, drumming his fingers along the table. “Snow has had a rough go of it. You could make it better. Not fix it, mind you. Snow’s the kind of person to demand you put the tools to fix the machine as far as possible from herself so she has a challenge. But you could support her, or at least continue what support you've given her. I've never liked you much, you're abrasive and coarse and don't bathe enough-”

“Hardy fucking har,” Bigby snarls.

“-but you love her like no one else, and that's what matters. The Big Bad Wolf, humbled and tamed.”

Bigby smirks. “If any woman could do it-”

“-it would be Snow White.” Charming nods knowingly. “Quite possibly the worthiest woman.”

“Sure. Now tell her that and get her to believe it.” Bigby pulls the list out again and sighs. “Give me the card, I forgot the last thing on her list. She'll kill me if I don't get it.” After Charming shrugs and hands him the card, he gets up to the counter, searching the menu for the precious golden item. “Can I also get a milkshake?”

“Sorry, as much as I'd love to see your sugar daddy and you sip a drink down together, our machine’s down.”

Bigby blinks rapidly. “What.”

“I said-”

“No, I heard what you said.” Bigby turns on his heel, trying to shove the heat of his blush down but failing spectacularly as he reports back to Charming. “We need to get out of here ASAP. Waitress thinks we're an item.”

Charming lets out a barking laugh. “An item?”

“I believe the term she used was ‘sugar daddy’,” Bigby mutters.

Charming hums, contemplating his companion carefully. “I guess if I had to pick a guy,” Charming finally admits.

“Not here. Not now. We're definitely not having the conversation right now.” Despite the sign right above their booth, Bigby lights up another cigarette, staring the girl in the eye as he does so in an act of dominance. She meets his stare, saying nothing as she eyes the cigarette like it’s a knife that hasn't been unsheathed. “Their milkshake machine is broken.”

“It always is,” Charming retorts. “It's fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“Got a limitless amount of money, and their machine is broken. We might as well go all out and buy…one…” The cigarette nearly falls out of his mouth as he says the words in sarcasm only to fall into a revelation. “Charming, do they have one of the always open supermarkets around here?”

“Yeah, couple blocks down.”

“Stay here, I'm going down there real quick.”

* * *

The doors open automatically, startling him slightly. The store feels absolutely massive as he looks at the aisle upon aisle. There's a young girl standing near the entrance, looking at him expectedly. “Something I can help you with?” She asks cheerfully.

“Uhm, okay, here's the deal,” Bigby answers. “The woman carrying my child is having pregnancy cravings and she wants a milkshake. That's the one thing she refuses to go without. However, the restaurant down the street can't make any milkshakes because their machine’s down.”

“Ah, not a surprise that the McDonald's ice cream machine is down. So you're looking for something that will make a milkshake.” She starts walking towards the opposite end of the store, grabbing a cart without even stopping. “So we’ll need a blender, milk, and ice cream. How much are we thinking about spending on the blender?”

“The most expensive one you've got,” He answers. “She will rain hell down upon me if this doesn't work out.”

The worker smiles at him. “That's adorable.” Bigby wants to say something, but when he really thinks about it, the few times Snow’s ripped into him has also been the few times he's felt the most… domestic with her. He smiles to himself as the worker leads him down an aisle, pulling a box off of a shelf. “This does almost everything except spoonfeed you. Three hundred dollars.”

“It'll be worth it. Sold.”

She takes him back to the frozen food. “Do you know what kind of milkshake she was wanting?” Oh no. No. Goddammit. She can tell from his panicked look that he most definitely doesn't. “Okay, do you know what she likes?”

“She likes chocolate a lot.” Bigby looks at the different flavors, racking his brain for all of her purchases at the candy store. “Maybe this one?”

“Hey, I wouldn't know, she’s your wife,” The girl jokes. The word hits Bigby right in the chest, but he bites his tongue and just grabs the pint of ice cream, heading over to pick up a gallon of milk. The worker leads him to a cashier that has a checkout open before walking back to her original spot. The checkout itself is relatively quick and on his way out, the greeter waves. “See you around!”

He gives her a faint nod and smile before turning to walk the couple blocks back to the McDonald's.

His wife. Wife. He'd love to call Snow that, love to shower her with affection and romance until his heart gave out. He wish he could show her just how much But if this is the best he's getting, he’ll take it. Describing their relationship as “it's complicated” has been a thing for hundreds of years. What's another millennia?

_But you know how she smells. Like home. Like mate._

_Like someone who needs space and deserves every bit of it,_ He answers back to himself. _I may be an animal, but I refuse to be a monster to her. Anyone but her._

It's true, and both him and Snow know it; she'll never be able to tame him fully, never be able to make him a domesticated dog that sleeps in his bed like a good boy every night. That's partly why she hesitates to go any further with him; she's afraid of the unknown, afraid of not having that control. However, he can tell she doesn't even know what lies deeper in herself, that she doesn't try to tame him past asking him to come to the New World because she doesn't want to, not out of laziness but out of keeping him the same. She would never try to muzzle him, and she would never have to. Her wish is his law, and on some level, she understands that. She doesn't have to put a collar on when her will is what proverbially moves his hands. Snow can trust that he will what is best for Fabletown, and while she thought it's because he has nowhere else to go, now they both know it's because he's right where he wants to be.

Charming is leaning on the hood of the car, bag in hand. “I was hoping you'd sniff your way back. What's wrong? You look like you've been given a great mystery to solve.”

Bigby shakes his head. “No, just… the greeter referred to Snow as my wife. It offset me.”

Charming frowns, standing up straight. “Sorry the night’s been difficult on you.”

“No, you're not.” Bigby rounds the side, getting in the passenger side. “Let's get back to the Woodlands.”

Charming turns the car on before turning to Bigby. “I really do mean it. I am sorry.”

“Just drive,” Bigby sighs, lighting another cigarette.

* * *

Hobbes is waiting for them at the front desk, chatting amicably with Grimble. “Hubbard put everything in enchanted boxes to keep them warm and fresh,” He informs them as he hands the bags over to Bigby. “She wants them back, clean or dirty.”

“And the bill?”

“She said it was a favor repaid for the times you've helped her with check dashers.”

“That doesn't count. Most of the time it was Jack,” Bigby grumbles. “In any case, thank you for your help tonight. Both of you.”

“All in a night's work. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to recover a date,” Charming says.

“Wait, recover?” Bigby raises his eyebrows in faint surprise. “Did you neglect a date to help your ex-wife?”

“Ah, ah. Not too loud, Sheriff.” Charming winks at him. “Don't let her know that. I'll give you the credit of being the hero tonight.” With that, both him and Hobbes leave him to make the trek back up to Snow's alone.

When he knocks on her door this time, she opens a lot quicker. “In!” He complies, watching as she shuts the door and circles him like a predator. “Did you get everything?”

“Have you been drinking your water?” Snow holds up the empty glass with an annoyed pout and he smiles. “Then you can eat.”

He pulls everything out of the bags, unboxing the blender as she digs into a burger. The moan of satisfaction is like seeing land after two months of being on a ship, a sense of relief and accomplishment. Snow eyes the blender and ice cream, wiping her mouth. “What's that?”

“The McDonald's ice cream machine was down-”

“It always is,” Snow comments with slight frustration.

“-so I bought a blender so we can make you one. Or you can make them after this.” He turns back, feeling his ears warm up. “Not expecting a welcome back or anything-”

She wraps her arms around him, burrowing her forehead into his back. “I'm sorry I've been cold during the pregnancy. Thank you for doing this for me.”

He looks down at how her hands are balled up, hugging him tight. Her heart is beating… not hard, but with emphasis. The next breath he takes is shaky, afraid to scare her away. “Yeah, uh, you're welcome.”

“What kind of ice cream did you get?” She turns the pint around. “I haven't seen this flavor before.”

“Well, I hope it turns out alright,” He says as he rinses out the blender cup. “I know it wasn't what you wanted.”

She doesn't say anything, and he turns to see her eating her burger with one hand and her other still wrapped around him. The expression on her face is adorable when she looks back up. “Sorry,” Snow mumbles through her food.

Bigby grins, filling the cup a third of the way full of milk. “Don't be sorry,” He assures. “Open that ice cream up.”

As the blender mixes, she starts in on a steak. “What's this book?” She asks as she opens the Styrofoam box.

Of course he didn't listen. Son of a bitch must have called when Bigby was in the supermarket. “I told him that I didn't need to see it,” He growls.

“Him who?”

“Charming… he helped out a lot tonight. You should thank him when you see him next.” Bigby takes the book from the bag, flipping it open to the last used page. It's Bluebeard’s notebook, alright; his handwriting, his aftershave, his vocabulary. He reads the list, the concise orders that seem to ring in his head like they were his own thoughts. But Charming is right: not one of these orders are for him and Snow to sleep together.

Snow peeks over his shoulder, reading down the list. “That's Bluebeard’s handwriting.”

“Mhm.”

“And this is what he told us to do.”

Bigby shuts the book close forcefully. “Your milkshake is ready.”

As he goes to pour her a glass, she rounds back on him. “What is your problem?”

“I don't need to dwell on that situation anymore. There's nothing I can do to change it. All it does is get me angry,” He answers snappily. “So I'd rather just leave it behind.”

She stands quietly, staring at the food and avoiding looking at him. “And what if I need to talk about it?”

 _Fuck._ Bigby faces her, crossing his arms. “Fine. Out with it then.”

“I'm sorry I blamed you.”

_Oh._

Snow tucks her hair behind her ears. “I was shocked… No Fable has been pregnant within the last few centuries, and I just… felt betrayed that you knew what happened and didn't tell me right away. I understand why,” She says before he can explain himself further.  “From a logical standpoint, you made the right decision. But were you ever going to tell me what happened?”

“Eventually,” He admits. “Not a ‘take five hundred years to do it’ eventually. When everything calmed down, before we started our dates, I was going to tell you. I didn't want to lead you into that without honesty. But then…”

“But then,” She repeats with a small smile, gesturing to her stomach. “Why does the topic anger you so much?”

Bigby wants to not say anything, but if she's going to be open with her feelings, he might as well be, too. “I don't remember those three nights. I don't remember… anything of it, Snow. One minute it's Bluebeard and the next minute, I'm catching fish. So I worry that… I worry that I might have…”

“Forced me into it?”

“Precisely,” He says quietly.

“You didn't. I know you didn't, for the same reason that you were fishing by yourself more like a wolf than a human.” Snow picks up the list, pointing at it. “These were the parameters, correct? There's no telling us how to act aside from eloping to the Pacific Northwest, and Cole says that while my words were unexpected, my behavior wasn’t anything out of the norm. So from that, we can deduce that Bluebeard’s orders didn't affect our personalities. Which is why you went fishing as you were.”

“Hold on, Snow. Are you saying that… sleeping with me isn't out of your personality range? That's actually something you'd do?”

She blushes, shutting the book softer than he did. “Proud of yourself, Bigby?”

“A little bit.” He chances a look at her, hoping she's not glaring at him. “I wanted to romance you on my own terms, though. Or at least, as close as I could get in the city. I didn't expect for our lives to get turned upside down.”

“No one could've expected it. I'm sorry about how I've reacted. This is me trying to… Open up to the idea of us. I'm trying.”

“I… appreciate it.” He looks down at the shake and hands it to her. “Tell me how you like it.”

She studies the top closely before taking a small drink, eyes widening before she takes a bigger one. “It's good. Really good. You'll have to make me this next week.”

“Next week?”

Snow smiles at him, eyes twinkling. “Did I stutter?”

If he had a tail, it'd be wagging. “No, sorry.”

She grabs another carton of steaks before sitting on her sofa. “Come on, make yourself comfortable and eat.”

“...eat?”

“You think I ordered all those rare steaks for myself?” Snow shrugs off her robe, revealing the tank top and sweats she was sleeping in, baby bump barely covered.

If he wasn't happy before, he is now as he takes his coat off and hangs it on the hook next to the door. “You're sure?” He asks hesitantly.

“Don't make me say it again.” In one smooth move, he grabs the rare steaks and a fork, sitting down next to her on the sofa. Without saying anything, she repositions herself and leans into him. “You're warm,” She remarks.

“And you're freezing. Here,” He says, wrapping his arm around her. “You need to stay warm. Put that robe back on.”

She takes another drink of her milkshake before putting it down on the coffee table and leaning her head on his chest. “It's itchy and why would I when I have a perfectly good heater?”

Bigby can't stop smiling, even as he cuts up his steak. “Go eat more. I can tell you're starving. Yes,” He answers before she can say it. “Dumb wolf nose.”

She comes back with all the food, laying it out on the table. A sigh of relief escapes her as she cuddles back into him. “How are you so warm?”

“Dumb wolf body to go with the dumb wolf nose?” He jokes. “If I was in my usual body, you'd be completely warmed up in seconds. And I wouldn't have to eat this steak in pieces.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Snow teases as she dips a fry in her milkshake.

“Don't patronize me. Not when I can give you hell for what you just did.”

Snow shakes her head. “Fries and milkshakes go together.”

“Prove it,” Bigby says.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Snow dips another one in and holds it out for him. “Come on.”

He gives her an exasperated look as he bites the fry. “...alright, it's not the worst. Better than snails.”

“Snails?” Snow pauses midbite to look up at him. “You've eaten snails?”

“I tell you this both because I trust you'll never say anything and because no one will ever believe you, but I was the runt of the litter.” He smirks at her shock. “Yeah, Mother died when I was young, and my brothers left to go hang out with my father, who is a prick and shouldn't be trusted. But with no one to help me, I had to start off with insects and work my way up. The worst was snail. There was a crunch and then slime and I didn't eat for the rest of the day.”

“How small were you?” She asks before resuming her eating.

“About the size of your average puppy. Not big enough for hares or squirrels.” He takes another bite. “But you know how big I got.”

“Mm,” She hums and nods, swallowing her food quickly. “The biggest and baddest.”

“I said that one time and Colin made fun of me. I then asked if he wanted my leftover bacon.” Bigby fakes a puzzled look. “He didn't like that for some reason.”

Snow giggles, and it makes his heart skip several beats before resuming a quicker pace. “You were always so mean to him.”

“I was mean to him? He was using me as a home away from home when they sent him to go get intel on Upper Fabletown.” Bigby shrugs. “The least he could do was stand a few jokes. He always took them, too. Threw back as hard as he got. I miss him.”

“I do, too,” She says quietly. “It's nice to know I'm not the only one.”

He squeezes her in a half hug. “I'm always here if you want to talk about it. I know you won't, though.”

“No, I do. I need to.” She finishes her milkshake. “I need to stop bottling things and compartmentalizing feelings. Otherwise, our kid is going to grow up emotionally stunted.” She pauses, looking back at him. “The water thing. How’d you know what would help?” 

Bigby fidgets with his fork, avoiding her unintentional interrogation. “I've been reading baby books, just in case you needed my help. Or in case you changed your mind.”

“Consider them worth it then.” She stands up, stretching and yawning. “I need to get to bed, now that my stomach isn't cramping.”

Bigby nods, shooting up to his feet. “I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

“I would hope so,” Snow says, confused before making a sound of laughter. “Oh, you don't get it. Take your shoes off.”

Bigby cocks his head but listens, setting them down next to her heels by the front door. “I'm not getting your deal. You want me to sleep on the couch?”

“You're completely dense sometimes,” She says as she packages everything back up into the Hubbard boxes. “I'm asking you to sleep with me. Not sex, but-”

He grabs the food from her hands, setting it on the counter. “I know, Snow. Wouldn't want it any other way right now.”

She leads him to the bedroom, turning the light on before heading into a connected room. “Get as comfortable as you need to,” She says before heading off.

He slips off his tie, socks, and belt, leaving them on the chair next to her dresser before standing awkwardly next to her bed. It's astounding he's this far, that she's this comfortable with him right now. Her scent can't lie to him; even as she brushes her teeth, she feels safe and relaxed. A piece of him is ecstatic over it, happy that _he_ did that. As she comes out of the bedroom, she frowns. “I said to get comfortable.”

“I thought it would be rude to get in your bed before you did,” Bigby reasons.

Snow rolls her eyes before pointing to his chest. “You're really going to sleep in your work shirt?”

“I didn't know if you'd be comfortable with me taking it off.”

“I'd rather you did,” She says pointedly before turning off the lights. He unbuttons it, laying it over the other articles of clothing, before slipping under the covers after her. As soon as he settles, she snuggles into him, her blessed scent assaulting him from every angle. “You're doing a terrible job at cuddling me.”

Bigby huffs, wrapping his arms around her. “Is this… okay?”

“Do what comes natural,” She replies. “After the baby is born, we’ll figure it out as we go.”

He swallows roughly, digging his nose into her hairline, risking a deep inhale of her scent. “I'm afraid that you'll do something you don't want to.”

Hands cup his cheeks, and before he can even react, her lips are pressed against his, soft and sweet in more than one way. It's over too quick for him to react and kiss her back, and she pulls away with amusement. “I'll do what I want to.”

A flood of emotions fill him, and he kisses her again, pulling her closer until there's no space between the two of them. Her hand snakes through his hair, holding him tight against her until they part in a panting heat. “Sorry,” He rasps.

“Don’t be,” She murmurs against his neck. “Good night.”

It feels like a fever dream as her heartbeat slows to a crawl, falling asleep peacefully in his arms like he's dreamed about for longer than he can remember. This happiness may not last, but he’ll hold onto the memory with a death grip that no one can release.

* * *

Snow does too, apparently.

He knows, because years upon years later, she wakes up thinking about it. He's learned by now to pick out what she's thinking about by matching the mood to memories. That, and she's brought out the blender he bought her that night to make milkshakes.

“Mm, I didn't think you were pregnant again,” Bigby quips, kissing her temple in passing.

“I just thought about that night and it sounded really good,” Snow reasons.

He opens the freezer, rifling through it to find some kind of breakfast meat. “Well, I'm glad it was good enough to be memorable.” He pulls out a package, inspecting it. “This is from Blossom, right?”

Snow stops fiddling with the blender and takes the meat from him, inspecting it closely. “Yes, this is the kind she got from… Oh, God, what was that one world she described, with the bioluminescent trees?”

“I thought it was from the place with two suns?”

Snow stares at him for a second before groaning in frustration. “Fuck it. Christmas, she's making us an atlas so I don't have to keep mixing these places up.”

Bigby grins, taking the meat back from her. “It all cooks the same.”

“That's not true!” She argues. “The snowstag that Winter sent us? Twelve hours on 500 degrees. Absolutely horrendous.”

“Wait,” He says. “Where was I for that?”

Snow’s face looks amazingly cute as she glares at him. “You were running after that goddamn lepial that said you couldn't catch it. You didn't come home for three days.”

“Oh yeah,” He muses absently. “I got the fucker though.”

She shakes her head and turns back to making her milkshake. He comes up behind her, setting the meat aside. “Hey, beautiful wife,” He murmurs into her ear.

Despite her mild irritation, she still smiles. “What do you want, stubborn wolf?”

“Answer me a question.”

She turns to face him, and he puts his hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively trapping her. Snow tries to bite back her smile, failing miserably but beautifully. “And what is your question?”

“Do you think we figured it out?”

She knows what question he asks, why he asks it. Instead of words, she kisses him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands in turn move from the granite countertop to hook underneath her, picking her up effortlessly. “You tell me, my love,” Snow whispers against his lips. “Because I think with all things considered, we figured out such a complex yet simple problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> A lepial is, in my mind, a lagomorphic type thing that talks with a Brooklyn accent and is very boisterous and vain. Essentially, the perfect prey for Bigby.
> 
> I know it doesn't entirely fit the canon right, but goddammit I just want them happy


End file.
